


The Winchester Cycle

by Kingdom_of_Roses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Slash, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingdom_of_Roses/pseuds/Kingdom_of_Roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brothers and Castiel get tangled up in Celtic mythology and have to save the world again.</p><p>Okie-doke, this is on indefinite suspension as I figure out if the plot muse got killed off by cannon. [5/24/15]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> During season 8 after Castiel is out of Purgatory but before the audience met Naomi and diverges into AU after that

_Running. Always running. He’s been running for what feels like days, hounds always on his heels. He catches a flash of white behind him, a red tongue and white teeth urging him to run faster. A yelp, a change from the baying that had harried him through the forest that’s so different from a cornfield in Indiana, alerts him to a new player. He drops into a ditch to catch his breath and scope out what could make such a big fucking hound **yelp**. What he sees makes his already shuddering heart freeze up; instead of just the pack of bone white hounds with red ears, (and **eyes** that were on fucking **fire** ), there is now a half dozen more hounds in the forest with him. These monsters blended with the forest so well it was hard to tell how many there were. They were covered in moss instead of fur. A thump behind him has him spinning to see more of the intruders circling him. _

_The sound of metal jangling heralded the rider long before Dean saw him. “Seems you have a friend who wants you alive more than I want you to pay for your crimes,” the young man said._

~*~*~*~

When Dean woke up he noticed three things: one: someone was sitting on his chest, two: a heavy someone was holding his legs ( _shit! numb feet!_ ), and three: there was a root in his back. Since his last memory was of a warehouse (the baddies always had a warehouse) in Idaho, he was confused by the root. Without opening his eyes, Dean tried to figure out where he had been moved to, albeit having another concussion was wrecking his focus. 

_Let’s see... deep breath in... Son Of A Bitch my head hurts… smells like fresh cut grass, apple blossoms - could be the tree I’m under - fresh rain? But my ass isn’t getting wet…_

As the person on top of Dean shifted he was hit with the smell of **smoke** and **copper** and **shit** , but then a fresh breeze brought sea brine to clear his nose and the other smells left like they had never been. 

His ears didn’t provide much else:

_Birds… lots or one noisy fucker - sounds like a crow… wind through trees… waves, definitely waves… ooor that could be my blood… that’s panting, why’s there a dog? What kidnapper brings a dog?_

Since all he had learned was that he was outside and near saltwater, which the warehouse was not, Dean decided to risk the migraine and have a look at who was holding him down. 

At first he saw dark, ancient eyes containing galaxies, but since that didn’t make sense he blinked and saw deep set gray eyes. Shifting his focus he saw a twenties-ish face, high cheekbones, bright teal hair held back in a ponytail, strong chin, eyebrows to rival Brooke Shields, and a small, straight nose. She sported silver hoops with blue stones in her right nostril, left eyebrow, the center of her bottom lip, and up along her ears. When she saw that he was admitting to being awake she smiled like the cheshire cat (animated, not that trainwreck by Burton, thank you very much) complete with overly sharp eye teeth. Peeking out from under her grey tee was a tattoo. At first all Dean saw were feathers dripping down her neck and arms. Then he noticed the feathers formed words. The words weren’t English, and they moved around more than normal tattoos.

“So glad you could join us,” she purred, “It was getting boring with only Alena to talk to.”

“Send a text next time, save you the trouble of knocking me out and dragging me here,” _wherever ‘here’ is_ , Dean tried to say with his usual bravado, but the migraine took the bite out of it. She tilted her head at this, strongly putting him in mind of Cas, which made him wonder where the nerd angel was, because fuck if he could remember if Cas had even been with him on this hunt. _That’s a rather large memory gap, what the fuck is going on?_

“It seems I need to remind someone to be gentle when dealing with warriors,” the tone was playfully sarcastic, but the look was a glare aimed at the person holding his legs. There was an answering whine and his legs where hit, twice, with what felt like a tree branch. She ignored his yelp in favor of cooing over her shoulder “I know you’re sorry, you’re such a good girl! You brought him back in one piece! Now go fetch Em.” She turned back to Dean as the weight left his legs, “You’ll have to forgive Alena, she’s use to warriors having more padding.” There was a huff from behind her, “However, she liked your screaming. Poor dear hasn't been able to properly terrorize anyone in _ages!_ ”

“What the fuck lady?! That dog almost broke my leg just now and you’re worried about her _feelings?!_ And I do not scream.” This was met with another head tilt, and then a smirk. “Jeez, you have one creepy smile going there, want to clue the audience in on the joke?” Dean started to sit up, but she was trapping his arms to his side. Unable to gain leverage he let his head fall back to the ground, which, predictably, had him seeing stars and trying to keep his lunch (dinner? breakfast?) down and swearing a blue streak. Surprisingly, she didn’t try getting away from the gagging man less than a half foot from her face. Huh. Even Crowley swayed back from imminent body fluids, if only to save his suit.

“Would you like a bucket? I’ll let you up if you swear to hear me out. Might even have a remedy for your head if you continue to answer politely.”

“Sure you’re not just going to poison me and then feed me to Cujo?”

“I would be a bad host if I poisoned a guest sworn to me. And it would be poor planning to feed poisoned meat to Alena, even if she’d regard it as ‘spice’.” Her tone implied a toddler could have figured that out, which, fine, feeding poisoned meat to your dog is stupid, but Dean had a lifetime of experience pointing to the bad guys seeing a different cause-and-effect trail. “Besides,” she continued, “I went to too much effort bringing you here to poison you before I’m done with you.”

“So poisoning is still on the table?” 

Her smile was the smile of a parent seeing a child eat without dribbling all over himself, “I swear I will not poison you, at this meeting or in the future,” she held up her right hand in, wait, the girl scout salute? 

“Could I have that in writing, or even better, blood? I think the girl scouts sold their souls for cookie sales.”

The smile bloomed into full on pride as she reached into her boot and pulled out a knife. “Will any blood do, or over the lifeline?” 

“Let’s do lifeline, just to be safe.” 

As soon as Dean finished his sentence she swiftly ran the blade across her palm, let three drops land on his shirt, and then licked the wound, leaving unmarred skin in the wake of her tongue. She cleaned the knife on the grass by his head and resheathed it in her boot. “I will not poison you now or in the future, this I swear on my blood,” with her final word Dean felt something in the air snap into place, focused on the three drops on his chest.

“Now I need a promise from you, that you will hear out my proposition without trying to run away, like you did last time. I don't want to bind you this time,” she was sitting upright, eyeing him critically.

“Last time? We've never met before, you freak of nature. Your crazy tattoo alone gets its own bookmark in my memory!”

Suddenly, someone was crouching above his head and they flicked his temple.

“OW! What the fuck was that for?!” With the wash of nausea Dean started getting the feeling that he actually _had_ met her before. No real memories, just impressions and muffled conversations.

“Em, please don’t do that yet, we need his brain to work later,” the lady said to the person out of sight.

“You need to move this along, he needs to trust you, and I was getting bored watching” Now Dean knew the person was female even if she refused to get into his line of sight.

Might as well see what they wanted, “What’s in it for me?”

“A cheeseburger and an explanation.”

Nausea hit Dean hard, “Umm…”

“My that’s a pretty shade of green.” She sighed, “And I suppose I could heal you head injury.”

“Deal!”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean mulled over what he had learned so far:

‘Em’ was actually ‘M’
His host was Ana
Alena was a prettier, mossier version of a hellhound
She wasn’t the only one
He was eating one of the best cheeseburgers in the world


Dean tried to puzzle out what was going on while eating. _Goddamn tasty burger_. M was definitely Ana’s sister, maybe, it went on the list of things he needed to ask. Same height (no wonder he couldn't shift her, Ana almost looked him in the eyes), same bone structure, but where Ana had teal hair, M had fire engine red kept in check by viking braids. The part that gave Dean the willies was their eyes. Identical gray, identical alien, identical mirth at the wrong moments. Different piercings, though; M’s were silver with green stones. And from the looks of it, different tattoos peeking out from their clothing. Same shifting of the words, but M’s were made of fire instead of feathers. 

Dean still couldn’t figure out where they were. He had traveled both the East coast and West coast of the continental United States and this bay didn’t belong to either. The stormy waters looked like he was farther north than Maine and in the winter, but the forest was in full bloom. And the sky, holy shit the sky refused to make sense, so Dean skipped it in favor of looking at more normal things. He was in a glade covered by bright green grass and surrounded by what looked like a wild orchard. Mixed in with the apple tree he had been under were hawthorn, cherry, and silver birch trees. Through a pair of hawthorns he could see a path down to the bay and what looked like a hamlet straight out of a travel brochure. What was weird ( _Ha_ ) was instead of seagulls, the only birds Dean could see were crows, or were they ravens? Big, hulking, black birds that seemed to like gathering behind Ana and M. Occasionally one or two would flit forward to eat out of the sisters’ hands what appeared to be very bloody steak.

When Ana had first let him sit up after his promise he hadn’t seen any furniture in the glade, but he was now sitting at a wooden table so intricately carved with medieval battles that Dean was surprised it was allowed outside, and the sisters were lounging on divans (wouldn’t Sammy laugh at him using frilly language). Alena had been joined by pack mates, who had draped themselves around the clearing in an obvious move to prevent all escape. Something about them tugged at Dean’s memory, but he put it off as an effect of the flick M had given him. There were a couple of fucking huge cats scattered among the hounds paying attention to the sisters.

He didn’t know what Ana did to his head, but he was thinking better than he had two concussions ago (should have asked Cas for help, but he had his pride); it didn’t feel like angel mojo and Ana didn’t act like an angel. Well, maybe a bit like Gabriel, but he was a mutant. Ana had held his head between her hands and sang in a flowing language. By the end of the first verse his migraine was gone, by the end of her songspell he knew even his teeth were better, let alone his concussion. 

“Do you require more refreshments? More healing? Are you ready to learn what you can do for us, and what we can do for you?” Ana asked while waving her hand, which made his cheeseburger and coke disappear the same way they came in, no puff of smoke, no smell of ozone, nothing to show how she achieved the trick. 

“First I need some answers!” Good cheeseburger or no, Dean needed information if he wanted any chance of making it past Alena and co. “Where are Sam and Cas? Where am I? What did she do to my brain? What did you mean by ‘last time’? And where are my weapons?!” His voice totally didn’t get hysterical on that last one, shut it. Frankly, Dean couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t started on those earlier, but put it down to the staring, the concussion, and the flick from M. Either sister could rival Cas for time between blinks. ( _Being treated as prey shouldn’t be new, and a concussion certainly wasn’t, so what was the real reason? Maybe M did more than uncloak something in his brain._ )

“Your companions are safely being entertained two holds over, though Castiel is proving an inconvenience.” It kinda terrified Dean that Cas was only an inconvenience. “We are hosting you in a hidden glade near our hold in the Summerlands.” _Summerlands? Where the fuck is that?_ “Third, your weapons are safe, but removed for obvious reasons. We must compliment you on how many you were carrying. Many would clank most alarmingly if they tried that amount, but you were able to sneak around quite well. B is interested in learning the technique,” Ana gestured to the air beside her and suddenly another person was in the glade, this time a man. He, too, was definitely maybe a sibling to Ana and M, but his hair was the purple of twilight and cut short, like Dean’s. _Wait a sec…_ even the guy’s clothing matched Dean’s in cut like he had cloned Dean’s wardrobe and changed the colors to compliment his hair. He wasn’t sharing the tattoos or piercings his sisters had that Dean could see, and had all of Dean’s weapons laid out on a table, which had appeared a minute after the guy, who must be B.

Besides the singing Ana had done in the beginning, their magic acted a _lot_ like Gabriel’s when he was being the Trickster.

“Two guns, a taser, three knives, one of silver and one of bronze, feels like it’s been blessed, a machete, two ziplocks of salt, pepper spray, engraved brass knuckles, telescoping baton, and the pièce de résistance: 2 yards of iron chain. By Oak and Ash this must have been heavy, is all of it necessary?” As he talked, B walked around his table and up to Dean’s, with each step looking more and more like his sisters until B shared the family trait of having tits, though she kept the haircut. The clones of Dean’s wardrobe oozed up her arms until she too was in a tee, jeans, and work boots. Her new shirt revealed that her version of the vertigo tattoo was made of blades and her visible piercings were silver with blood-red stones. Her tone, while changing pitch, had genuine curiosity behind it.

“They’ve been useful while hunting monsters. Was it really necessary to trick me with your gender if you were going to change right away?” Trying for nonchalance, he knew he had hit defensive. Shapechangers weirded him out ever since that one stole his face.

“You’re male, therefore to get the weapons to hang right I had to be male. Tell me, why brass knuckles when iron would hurt ghosts more? I do envy you that silver knife, do you even know how old it is?” Again with the head tilt, like Dean was a puzzle to solve.

Wait…

“You WORE MY WEAPONS?! Strip me so I can’t hurt you, sure! But you **wore my weapons!** ” Dean was a reasonable man, but his stuff was his stuff was _his stuff_. Not even Sammy got free rein over his stuff! ( _okay Cas sometimes was allowed to move his things in his Baby, but he was Cas so go fuck yourself that’s what_ ).

There was a snort from his left as M entered the conversation, “We took your weapons so the Cù Sídhe didn’t feel a need to rip your spine out through your stomach when you eventually decide to try escaping by “hurting” us.” And wow, those were some sarcastic air quotes.

“Coo she? What the hell is a coo she?!” M just pointed at Alena, who was gazing unblinkingly at Dean from Ana’s feet, and enunciated at him “Cù Sídhe.” Oh. The big, some would call horse sized, dog was a special breed. And was glaring at him like he had kicked her puppy. Not good. Maybe now was the time to dust off the manners manual and make nice to the trio of scary ladies. Who all just smirked as he thought that… crap, they could read minds to some extent. The smiles grew downright predatory. _Fuck._

Tentatively, Dean tried a new approach, “So all the animals,” a growl from the closest cat stopped him, “Um, all the... Sídhe? in the clearing will probably rip my lungs out through my ass and leave the remains for those ravens if I don’t make with the niceties.” One of the biggest ravens he had ever seen landed on the back of Ana’s chair (née divan, take that Sammy!) and started sizing him up. Great, even the birds were smarter than him. “So… want to tell me why you’ve gone to so much effort to talk to me by myself? And if you could elaborate on the ‘last time’ comment, that would be appreciated. Uh, your ladyships.” Yep, Sam wasn’t the only one who could put a pattern together from a line. If the preening was any indication, these ladies were use to formal address. 

“Maybe I can stir our last talk back up for you,” M observed as she got up and started walking towards Dean. “I’m surprised it stayed hidden from you for so long.” Without waiting for a reply she flicked his temple and his senses whited out.

_~We find ourselves in need of a mortal Champion, Dean Winchester. Personally I prefer a more hands on approach, but rules are rules~ the Terrifying Queen said ~The mortal needs to go through four Tasks before they can take on the Challenge. Companions are permitted to help, even one as unusual as a vassal of the Abrahamic god; however, **you** need to be the one completing the Task~ Sam was going to be a joy to live with when he heard that. ~Once you accept the first Task you are committing to finish the Task and becoming our Champion for the rest of your life. Do not tempt Fate by trying to breach the contract~ (Can’t be worse than Hell.) _

_The Horrifying Queen’s teeth look very sharp in her smile, ~We know of the Abrahamic Hell, and yes, we **can** make it worse~ (Oookay, that’s scary and not at all ominous.)_

Dean jerked away from M. “You know what? STOP THAT. Jesus! It’s hard enough keeping up with you three with my brain intact! Then you come along and make things even crazier! Stop putting shit in my memory that wasn’t there before!” A ripple went through the Sídhe in the clearing.

“Please refrain from bringing in the Christian lord’s son, it upsets the Sídhe, what with his church doing its best to drive them out of their homes. As to your request,” Ana looked at M, “she will refrain from that move for the moment, it obviously does more to waste time than save it.” Ana could have been at a board meeting for the amount of excitement she showed, not being yelled at by a very jumpy hunter. “However, these are memories that you should have already been discovering. It has been two years since we last talked and we had set the spell to release six months afterwards.” Frowning, she continued, “You should have been having dreams about it.”

“Well, that’s easy enough: I only dream of Hell, so I drink until I pass out most nights.” He looked around at them, “You should get someone else, I’m way too fucked to be a Champion for you ladies.”

“But there is no one else,” M said, safely in his sight next to Ana. “We have used your line before because of how well they achieve their Tasks and because of the profound bond we share.”

Dean stilled, “Excuse me?”

“You are ideal for our situation because you are descended from us.”

He latched onto the thing that made the most sense. “Us? How am I descended from all three of you? Hold on, that’s just too weird for me, having sex with your nephew.”

“We are but three aspects of the same great Lady,” B stepped in, “there are more, but the poor dears are tired from their turn. A babe from one of us is a child of all. You are the descendant of our child Scáthach and the great hero Cú Chulainn.”

“Are those names suppose to mean anything?”

Back to M “You’ve fought “supernatural”” _those fucking air quotes_ “creatures all you life, you’ve even spat in the eye of the ranking angel, you’ve talked to **both** your grandfathers after they had died, and yet you know nothing of your heritage, nothing of the birthright you’ve inherited.” That eyeroll must have hurt. “No wonder those wavelengths could play you like a game of fidhcheall.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your mom FUCKING DIES when you’re four,” Dean jumped up and yelled at the three monsters in front of him, heedless of all the Cù Sídhe and Cait Sídhe who rose up with him.

A flash of regret passed over M’s face. “If we could have prevented the death of Mary Campbell we would have. Unfortunately we were in the nadir of our power when she made her deal with Azazel.” M looked sharply to Dean’s left, “Stad!” Dean was calm enough to notice how close one of the big cats was to chomping on his clenched fist. At the command all the Sídhe stopped moving towards Dean. _So to get the Sídhe’s attention, don’t rely on English._

Ana did a twisting motion with her right hand and the glade changed. His table was gone, replaced by a couch, each sister had an armchair, and there was a fire pit in the center. The Sídhe were still present, but outside of the circle of furniture. 

Ana frowned at Dean over the fire, “It is clear we must start at a different point. We need a mortal, ideally you, to act for us on the mortal plane.”

“Give me one good reason I should work for the monsters I hunt.”

B’s lips peeled back into a growl at the monster comment, but Ana held up a placating hand while M took the conversation thread, “The “Heavenly Host”,” _still sarcastic, must be her only finger setting_ , “in trying to end the world, upset some very delicate systems that were already fraying because of their gods’ negligence. We have the power to fix it, but we need a Champion to act for us. If we were to directly apply our power, it would be like performing brain surgery with a claymore: the patient could survive, but their reality would be changed.”

“Your angel didn’t help matters when siadsan ripped a way into Purgatory,” B spat at him. “Now an old Enemy is waking and testing the strength of his bonds. So really, we’re offering you a chance to clean up your mess.” _Shit, her teeth are getting pointier. Way to piss off the supercharged triplets._

Ana shot B a warning look, “The reward for helping us is substantial, besides preventing Ragnarök.” 

“Bullshit.”

Ana just sighed, “We will give you a month to make a final decision.” Another hand movement and the clearing filled with a dense fog.

“Wait! How do I…”


	3. Chapter 3

“... contact you?”

When the fog cleared Dean was standing in the middle of a warehouse. Not far away Sam was talking to Cas, the giant in danger of knocking over a stack of boxes while the angel did his normal impersonation of a statue. Suddenly Cas was in front of Dean instead of Sam. _Here we go with the staring contest, at least this is an alien I understand._

Sam rushed to follow. “Dean! Where were you?! She said you were fine but wouldn’t tell us anything!” Sam in a panic was never easy to deal with, but at least Dean had an excuse to hug him to assure Sam that he was alright.

“I just had one of the most fucked up job offers of my life,” Dean said as he stepped back from his brother and started checking for his weapons. _All in place, good._ “There were these three super powered chicks asking me to be their champion. Gave me a headache just trying to follow the conversation; for some reason they acted like they had talked to me before, that I should have been dreaming of them or some self-centered shit like that. At least they have the courtesy to heal my head.”

“You were injured? How? What did the chicken do to heal you?” _Classic Cas._

“What? No, chicks as in hot women. Do not call them monsters, they might bite off something important.” _Cue eye roll from Sam_. “I don’t remember hitting my head, must have been during the hunt, but she sang and it cleared right up.”

“Do you actually remember the hunt? ‘Cause my memory is really vague on what we were doing before meeting the lady kidnapper,” Sam said.

“Shit, you too? I can’t remember anything except where we are. Cas? What about you?”

“We were investigating the disappearances of local citizens; 4 children and 15 adults have gone missing since May. Only the adults have reappeared, dead. I believe our memories should come back and their absence was an unintended consequence from our forced travel.”

“Huh, that’s lucky I guess. Where were you guys? My girls only said you were two holds over being entertained,” Dean hoped to get better answers out of his brother than the sisters.

“You would not believe it! We were in Sessrúmnir!” The big nerd was practically bouncing in place.

Dean felt a new headache beginning in his temples. “Is that suppose to wow me or get me to give you a tissue for the spray?” He turned towards the warehouse doors to get to his baby.

Cas answered, “Sessrúmnir is the hall of Freyja, a Norse deity.”

“At least you guys got her name, all I got were initials and nicknames.” His baby was right outside, thank fuck, which was one less thing to worry about. “I do know they acted like superpowered beings and were surrounded by Sídhe.” They all piled into the Impala and drove to the motel as Dean told them everything that had happened in that clearing by the sea.

“So you said Norse deity? What, like those two douchebags Lucifer killed?” Dean asked Cas as they pulled into the parking lot.

“That would make the most sense” came the gravelly reply as they stepped into the room Sam and Dean had.

“Great, that means we have a chance of killing them,” Sam flopped down onto his bed.

“That’s us, killing the old ways one god at a time,” Dean crashed into his bed, rolled the bedding around him, and promptly passed out.

Cas looked between the two, each snoring away, sat down at the table facing the door, and began his nightly vigil over ~~Dean~~ the brothers.

~*~*~*~

_The Phantom Queen looked down at him from her throne of shadows. He was restrained by silken ropes he could not see against a tree and was practically spitting in rage at his treatment. First he was chased through a forest, now this bitch was going to sit in judgement on him?! Like hell he was going to put up with it._

_~We saved you from Gwynn ap Nudd’s Hunt for a reason, Dean Winchester~_

_Fucking hell, a telepath who showed off by not using her mouth, just what he needed. “I had it under control!”_

_~No, you did not~_

_“Bullshit! I was going to kill those hounds and get back to the portal.”_

_~If the Cŵn Annwn could be taken out by your weapons, that’s a plan. They cannot be killed so easily. They were going to hunt you until you could no longer run, and then rip you limb from limb. We thought to spare you from experiencing that a second time~_

_All the blood drained from his face. “Fine, let’s hear your offer, and if it’s better than death by hounds 2.0, I’ll consider it.”_

~*~*~*~

Dean struggled awake with a gasp and a curse. The curse did not turn into a shrike when he nearly headbutted Cas only because he lacked the breath to make the embarrassing sound. “What the fuck dude?!”

“You appeared to be having a nightmare and I thought you would like to be out of it.”

“So you what, were going to give me the kiss of life?!” _Don’t blush, he’s an angel, he can read your mind if he wanted to find out why you’re blushing._

Furrowed brows, “No, I was going to shake you, but you woke up.”

“As long as I’m up, might as well research what the hell’s going on in this town.” Dean put his bare feet on the ground, “Um, Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“Didn’t I pass out with my boots on?”

“Yes Dean.”

“Oh, okay.” _Should probably not find that endearing._ Dean padded over to the bathroom and called over his shoulder, “Sammy go out for his pre-breakfast run?”

“Yes.”

“Fun.” Dean closed the door and started his morning routine.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam brought back breakfast after his run. While they ate their breakfast burritos Dean, Cas, and Sam discussed what to do next. Dean had reviewed their notes on the hunt and it looked like they were dealing with two different things, a monster stealing children under the age of 6, and someone punishing criminals by running them to death and ripping them apart, then leaving the bodies at the edge of a forest. When talking about it Dean left out how much the second one sounded like bits of his dreams.

“From what I’m starting to remember, we were at that warehouse because it was the site of the last body, which broke pattern,” Sam said from behind his laptop, “and then it just gets blurry again. Cas, you seem to remember the most, you have anything to add?”

“I suspect my memory has been affected too, because I cannot tell you how or when we were pulled from the warehouse. Once we transfered I could sense we were in a different reality than this one. I would say it was Fólkvangr by the presence of Freyja and her hall Sessrúmnir, but since she did not let me leave, that is only speculation.” To Dean, Cas was clearly upset about being trapped.

“Besides Gabriel as Loki, should any of these pagan gods be able to do that to you?” Sam asked while bringing up a search on Freyja.

“I did not believe it possible, but perhaps I am still weakened from Purgatory,” Cas said, his eyes going distant.

“Fuck, that’s not good.” Dean looked at Sam, “Maybe we should decide which bad guy to focus on first? So Cas can store up energy.”

“Well, we did find this hunt by following it north from the bunker, almost like it was a trail. From your girls’ comments and some of the things Freyja said, it was all about you talking to them and keeping me and Cas out of the way. I’d say put the hunt on hold until there’s another killing or kidnapping to give us more clues, and try to find out who you talked to while looking into how to prevent that goddess from taking us again.” While he talked Sam brought out a pad of paper and started listing what was known about each element of the case and handed it off to Dean to fill in the section on his scary chicks.

“We’re going to have to go off of phonetics because I swear they weren't using English or Latin. I had no clue what a ‘coon anun’ was until the Queen said it was a hound.” Dean started writing things down.

“Do you mean Cŵn Annwn? They are the hounds of the Welsh Wild Hunt. Did she threaten you with them?” Sam rolled his eyes as Cas locked eyes with Dean again.

“You speak Welsh? Of course you do. No, she said she had saved me from Gwynn ap Nudd and his hunt.” Dean said.

“Then she is possibly a powerful Celtic deity to interfere with the lord of Annwn,” Cas pulled the pad from Dean’s hands and flipped to a new page to start writing.

“Hey, guys?” Sam interrupted, “I looked up this ap Nudd guy, and his M.O. matches the murders. That’s at least two gods we need to protect ourselves from. Why didn't you talk about him on the way back last night? And when did Ana, B, and M get upgraded to ‘Queen’?”

Dean squirmed, “I, uh, dreamed about the Queen last night. Everything was different from yesterday’s meeting, but I’m pretty sure she was one of the three I talked to. She name dropped him and then I woke up.” _To bright blue eyes._

“So Ana was right, you would be dreaming of them. What were we doing two years ago that you could have met them during and I not notice?” Sam pulled out the journal they had started keeping once their dad’s was full. “Huh, that was when I was soulless, could explain why I didn't notice, and you take willful denial to a superpower level, so that could be why you didn't react the way they expected to the spell, let alone all the times you've died or been healed by angel mojo could have messed the spell up.”

“Get to your point,” Dean growled, not liking the reminder of the shell of Sam he’d had to live with.

“The only case that looks promising is the Elwood, Indiana case of fairies taking first born sons. You were gone for hours but thought it had only been one. What if instead of a difference in the flow of time, you just didn't have the memories?”

Dean groaned, “What about that bullshit with the king of the fairies? And I shot my way out of there, which would be impossible if I was tied to a tree!”

“You were tied to a tree?” Cas still managed to pick out the embarrassing bits.

Sam coughed, “They could have given you something to believe, and then let your brain do the rest. If bullets and knives really worked on the fairy court, then the leprechaun wouldn't have been powerful enough to get my soul out of the cage, and he was giving me a serious offer.”

“You defeated him by pouring salt in front of him. Leprechaun’s can’t be that powerful if their OCD issues defeat them,” Dean pointed out.

“I think it’s more a balance for how powerful they are; he shrugged off everything else I threw at him. This webpage says they are the servants of the Lugh, who was the war leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann,” Sam flipped his screen around to show Dean.

“That… is a lot of epithets,” Dean conceded. “But that doesn't solve who the hell I was talking to.”

“I believe we can narrow our search to triple goddesses,” Cas said, “Based off of their comment about a child of one is a child of all. The involvement of the Sídhe would point to a member of the Celtic pantheon.” Sam started clacking away on his laptop.

“Cas, what do you know of the Sídhe? They seemed super intelligent,” Dean asked, taking the pad back from Cas.

“Modern lore has them being fairies. Irish lore has them being descended from the Tuatha Dé Danann. You only saw two types: the Cù Sídhe and the Cait Sídhe. Lore has those two being omens of ill fate. There are many more, and most will hurt you if you call them fairies. The sprite you microwaved two years ago have a tendency to be very aggressive and low on intelligence.”

Sam’s eyes bugged out and he interrupted with a strangled sound. “You are not going to believe this. If Ana was telling the truth,” Sam was damn near vibrating, “Then we’re descended from The Morrígan!”

“The evil bitch from King Arthur?” that didn't seem like too big a deal to Dean.

“Morgan Le Fay’s stories came later, and the link between the two is made through the name being similar.” Cas said. “Sam means a war goddess of the Irish.”

“And based off of the initials they were using you were talking to Badb, Macha, and Anand!” It was nice to see Sam excited about research rather than moping, but he wasn't the one with three war goddesses in his brain. Dean needed to steer the conversation back to how to deal with so many superpowered monsters in one place. 

“Okay, that’s where we start. Let’s find out everything about these girls and what could have them needing _me_ ,” Dean said as he pulled John’s journal towards him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and looked at his watch. Already past 7? Time flies when figuring out what wants to chew your ass. “My turn to get grub,” Dean tossed the filled in legal pad on the table already covered with meal wrappers and books from the library, “See what you can do with this.”

He walked down the street to the diner on the corner. They had some damn fine chocolate mousse pie that he needed to introduce to Cas. As he neared the front door he saw a man standing ramrod straight under the streetlight, reading a novel. No one seem to be sparing him a second glance even though he looked like he had just stepped out of a Ren. Fair: green leggings with fur-lined knee-high boots, a brown tunic edged in gold thread hit him mid thigh, and an orange shirt with tight sleeves. To top it off a short sword was strapped to his waist. 

The man closed his book when he saw Dean approaching. “Mr. Winchester, I thought it was time we were properly introduced,” he said, his accent creating a singsong effect with the vowels. “I am Gwynn, son of Nudd, son of Beli Mawr,” he said with a short bow.

“That’s great, mind if we take the revelations inside? I was hoping to get pie.”

“Of course, after you,” Gwynn ap Nudd held the door open for Dean.

Dean placed his order after being seated at a booth then turned towards Gwynn. “Are you the one running people to death up along routes 83/50/I-15? ‘Cause that’s a lot of bodies to drop.”

“The Morrígan asked a favor,” the god answered.

“That doesn’t tell me much, like why a Welsh god would play nice with an Irish war goddess,” Dean pointed out as the waiter brought their food.

“You’ve been doing your research, good, that should save us some time. I’m ‘playing nice’ because it is in my interest to do so. While it is true that Wales and Ireland have had rocky relations, we gods don’t have to fight simply because our people are. Besides, the British are more annoying than the Irish.” The god bit into the rare steak he had ordered, showing off his slightly too pointy teeth.

“Great, politics. Are you going to drop more bodies now that you’ve done your task?” Dean started eating his fries.

“You will note that all were rapists and murders. I only hunt people who are wrongdoers, as I believe you are beginning to remember,” Gwynn’s forest green eyes locked with Dean’s, and off in the distance Dean could hear the growling of a large hound.

“What is with you gods pulling freaky shit to try and intimidate me?! You want to talk, talk,” Dean tore his eyes away and looked at the man’s chin. _Don’t look down, can’t show weakness._

“So that’s why they like you,” Gwynn murmured into his coffee, taking a sip.

“What? You’re not going to fill me in, typical,” Dean to a swig of his coke. “You going to stop killing people now that you’ve delivered me or am I going to have to gank your ass?”

The lights in the diner grew dim, “You would not be able to kill me Mr. Winchester.”

“You’re just another mythological monster eating humans, pretending to be their god; I’ve killed your type before and I’ll do it again.” _That’s right, taunt the monster sitting across from you._

“What you have met were children of Eve so old they forgot they weren’t the gods they were pretending to be. They took their shape and role from humanity’s mind.” The lights came back up as Gwynn cut another piece of steak and ate it. “We ‘pagan’ Gods are older than the Abrahamic God, so when he started getting popular we took it as a chance to cut back on our hours, let him do all the heavy lifting if he was so keen on it.” 

“So that’s why Badb looked like she wanted to bite my balls off when I called them monsters.” The danger seemed to be past, for now. “Why did the sisters insist on using initials? Made it confusing as hell.”

“Hearing their names in that place would have had interesting side-effects for you that they wanted to avoid. I’m sure you’ll be getting more on that later.” Gwynn was almost done with his food and was now playing with his knife.

“The dream I’ve had was fucking freaky; You’re telling me that they’re all going to be like that? It’s not like there’s a lot of info that way.”

“Once you’ve been caught up to the present they will be more interactive in quality,”

“That’s just fantastic.” Dean pushed away his cleared plate, “Any reason you’re here right now, or is it just for food?”

“Think of me as your caseworker. When you want to accept The Morrígan’s offer, you’ll let me know, and in the meantime I’ll be somewhat avaliable for information.”

“Awesome. Hey, do you know what’s been kidnapping children?” Couldn’t hurt to ask.

“The Sídhe courts.” 

“Demon dogs and lions are taking children? What, for toys?” Assholes taking kids always pissed Dean off.

“The Sídhe are a collection of long lived races, some humanoid, and it has become increasingly hard for them to reproduce, so they take children that no one wants,” Gwynn could have been talking about the weather.

“Fucking hell! You’re going to go and get them back, or my answer is ‘no’ to The Morrígan!”

“Why? They will have better care than your government can provide, since the courts only took those who wouldn’t be missed.”

Dean could only sputter at this. Children being whisked away into a fairy tale was too ludicrous. “How do I know that they’re not being taken for appetizers?”

Gwynn sighed, “I will talk to Queen Mab and Queen Titania to arrange an interview, would that satisfy you if they show good faith?”

_Probably shouldn’t push too hard._ “It’s a start,” Dean grumbled.

“You’ll be more productive and safe if you were to head back to Kansas. And here’s the rest of your order to take back to that fetching creature and your brother.” Suddenly Gwynn ap Nudd disappeared, leaving Dean to choke on his coke.


	6. Chapter 6

“I got some good news and some crap news,” Dean barged into the motel room, food in hand.  
“Took you long enough!” Sam grabbed his salad and tea. “You start drooling over the pie case and forget to order?”

“I did that _once_ and you wont leave it alone. I met Gwynn ap Nudd and we talked.” Dean handed out the pie, set his burger and coke on the table, ignoring the stares from Cas and Sam. 

“You talked.” Deadpan and gravely, must be Cas.

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is with Death, but all the incarnations like talking to me. Or at least don’t reap my ass when I get sassy.”

“Maybe it’s because you flirt with it unnecessarily.” Dean choked, _again_ , on his coke. _Damn that burns_. Sam just laughed at him.

“Cas, man, I don’t **flirt** with Death.”

“No, you take unnecessary risks, don’t call for reinforcements, and I have to bring you back to life! Again!” Cas really did have a point.

“Fine, next time a god of death comes around, I’ll give you a ring. You want to hear what he said or not?” The moose was still laughing at him, not even trying to hide it.

The angel just stared back.

“Eat your pie,” Dean said, “He is the one killing people, but only “rapist and murderers.” He didn’t give a clear answer on if he would stop, but did say we couldn’t kill him, something about all the gods we **have** killed not being real.”

“Wait, what?” Sam looked shocked, “I call bullshit. Those are the hardest to kill. He’s saying they weren’t even real pagan gods?”

“Yep, Gwynn said they were specialized children of Eve. Real gods can’t be killed, which means we have to live with Gwynn ap Nudd killing the scum of humanity, if he’s telling the truth. He was showing enough power that we need to be certain if we go after him.”

“Well, we’re not going to find anything here; we’ve tapped the extent of the local research. The Men of Letters should have something about pagan gods. We should head back after we get the kids home.” Sam said, gesturing to the stack of library books.

“He say anything about the abducted children?” Cas asked, licking whipped cream off his fork. “This is very good pie.”

“…”

“Dean?” Sam waved at him, “The kids?”

“...Huh? Oh, kids. Uh, he said the Sídhe were taking them for their courts. He’s going to set up a meet with the Queens so that I can see the kids are better off there than here.”

Sam rubbed his head, “I feel like we need a flowchart to keep track of all the Queens you’re meeting.”

“These two are called Queen Mab and Queen Titania. You can draw the chart out tomorrow at home base, Gwynn wants me to be safe and there’s nothing we can do here.”

“Nothing we can…? Dean! We need to get those kids back! We can’t just do _nothing!_ ” Aaaand Sam had a bug up his ass.

“You seem to be forgetting the part where we are getting one-on-one time with **War Goddesses** , I have a Lord of the Dead following me around as a _favor to The Morrígan!_ We have more resources at the Men of Letters base than we do here, might as well take the time to be prepared for once!” Dean stood up and shouted, because like hell he was going to let his younger brother win at looming.

“I’m with Dean; we should gather knowledge and supplies before taking on an unknown enemy.” Cas still appeared to be focused on his slice of pie, methodically chasing after whipped cream and chocolate mousse with his fork.

Sam just snorted, “Of course you side with Dean.” He grabbed his dirty dishes and dumped them in the sink. “I’m going to bed.”

Cas and Dean looked at each other, “What did he mean by that?”

“Nothing man, just him being a sore loser.”

~*~*~*~

_~The Fomori once again threaten this world. We need you to collect the Treasures of Ireland, and a few other items on the ingredient list, and perform a spell to lock down the mightiest war leader of the Fomori: Balor. Without him to break a way into this reality the Fomori will be paralyzed~_

_“Why do you need **me** to be your errand boy? It sounds like any shmuck could do this for you.”_

_~The Treasures will sing to you~_

_“Yeah? I can’t be the only one, there’s 6 billion people, there has to be others who can ‘hear the Treasures’.”_

_~You are the only one with the necessary talents to hear and retrieve the Treasures, besides, you reminds us of a cherished loved one~_

_“Do you tie up all your loved ones, or am I just that special?”_

_The Beautiful Queen laughed ~You’ll be loosed soon; the bindings are just a precaution. Before we set you free we must give you your gift~_

_“Do I get to return it if I don’t like it?” Please say yes._

_~Of course~ She held a hand up to her mouth and breathed on her palm. A white globe formed there. Cupping the globe in her hands she walked up to Dean. ~A bit of luck to protect you until we need you~ She pressed it to Dean’s lips. It was warm and tingly and soft and begging to enter his mouth. What the hell, can never have too much luck. Dean opened his mouth and the world slipped away._


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up slow and relaxed, the first time in ages. If he concentrated he could still feel the globe in his nervous system, like a good fuck and a home cooked meal fused together. He lazily stretched before his dick started insisting he finish what the Morrígan started. Definitely time for a shower. It was a good thing that Cas wasn’t hovering over him this morning or he might ask why Dean had to hobble to the bathroom. Four years with a vessel and the grumpy bird still sucked at social rules.

Thinking of blue eyes and long fingers, Dean came with a grunt and a sigh. Someday he was going to grow a pair and actually tell that s.o.b. how he felt. Maybe after the world stayed saved for more than a week.

Dean finished up in the bathroom and went to see where Sam was so they could get on the road back to Kansas. Instead he walked into Gwynn ap Nudd.

“You really should be quieter if you want the handsome warrior outside to remain oblivious,” he said, tapping his temple.

Dean blushed bright red, “But I wasn’t…!” Dean’s shoulders slumped, “He’d be able to hear that? I wasn’t praying.”

“No, you were wishing quiet loudly with his name.” Gwynn straightened his tunic, “In six days it’s a full moon. That will be the best time to cross into the Summerlands to meet the Queens,” He handed over a piece of paper and a parchment, “These are directions from your base to a doorway, and the spell to get you to and from their realm. They will have an escort waiting for you.” Gwynn caught Dean’s eye, “Be Polite.”

“I’m always polite!” Gwynn just looked at him.

“No threats of repercussion; if you don’t like something you come back and I’ll show you how to fix it, _if_ it should be fixed. If they feel insulted they can turn you into a tree for 100 years, and that’s if they’re feeling frisky.”

“And you want me to leave **children** with them?!”

“Yes. The courts do not mistreat their property.”

Dean could only stare at that.

“You will be visiting two different courts, sometimes called the winter and summer courts. Do not think summer is nicer than winter, both will happily play with your liver if you give them cause.” He paused, “I’m forgetting something.” He started patting down his clothing, “Ah-ha! Tricky bugger was hiding.” From his boot he pulled out a gold ring.

“What, you’re proposing?”

“No, a gift from the Morrígan. Basically says you’re hers and anyone who messes with you will be gutted and left for the crows,” Gwynn held up a hand to stop Dean’s protests, “She knows you have yet to agree to be her Champion, this is to give you time to make that choice.” He slipped the ring onto Dean’s left index finger. “Now I’m off. Call if you need help.” 

Suddenly he was mounting a giant horse, like the ones from the beer commercials, except this one was pure white with red ears. _But I’m inside_ was all Dean thought before the horse and rider were gone.

“Dean! Stop fucking around and open the door!” Sam was banging on the door.

“What?! It’s not locked!” Dean yelled as he wrenched open the outside door. Sam looked pissed and Cas looked like he wanted to smite something, possibly Dean.

“Yeah? So I wasn’t locked out for five minutes, yelling your name? Even Cas couldn’t get in!”

“Why would I angel proof a room we’re leaving in less than an hour?” Dean stomped over to his gear bag and started shoving his shower kit and clothes in. 

“Something powerful was in here,” it looked like someone had pissed in Cas’ cereal as he stood in the spot Gwynn had just vacated.

“Lord of Annwn was just here. And before you bitch me out I didn’t get a chance to call either of you.” 

“What’d he want this time?” Sam grabbed his duffel and headed for the door.

“He gave me directions to the Summerlands.” Waving said directions at Cas and Sam, Dean stowed his bag in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel. Sam and Cas had a brief debate over who got shotgun; Cas won.

Cas frowned down at the parchment, “This is written in Old Gaeilge and at least five centuries old.”

“Cool, we can add it to the pile of old shit at the base. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you know how to read it” Dean watched the town disappear in his rearview mirror.

“Yes. I should be able to teach you a few phrases before the full moon, but your time might be better spent researching court protocol.”

The moose spoke up from the back seat, “Is there a limit on the number of people the spell can transport?”

“There is not in the words, but we will need to triple the recipe to account for all of us.”

“Awesome.” The Impala roared down the interstate.

~*~*~*~

_His main gun was lost. Reaching for a backup would be a waste of time considering how it had shrugged off a bullet to the skull. It looked like close-quarters fighting, so pepper spray would hurt him as much as it. That left knives: steel, silver, or bronze?_

_This had smelled like a trap from the moment they had stepped into the warehouse; none of the lights would turn on and the body was far enough inside they had to move from the door to get a good look. That’s when the door had slammed shut and the baying had started. They tried to stay back to back, but the hounds had easily herded him away from Sam and Cas. Now he was playing a demented game of hide and seek with these monsters._

_Fuck! They had backed him into a corner! Time to stand and fight. Let’s see how they like silver._

_He could see the outlines of three beasts prowling in front of him. Suddenly one lunged high on his left while another went low in front. While fighting off teeth snapping at his face he felt a jaw lock around his work boot and **pull** , sending him tumbling backwards. His head bounced off of something, probably the floor, and he had a thought for how Cas and Sam were doing before passing out._

~*~*~*~

“FUCK!” Dean hit the ground with a thump.

“Mwuh?” Came the fuzzy reply from Sam’s bed. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, just peachy. Just another nightmare courtesy of the Morrígan.” The clock read 6:30am, might as well get on the road early; they could reach the base before the sun set. “I’ll go get breakfast.”

“Mm’k” Sam burrowed deeper into the tiny bed.

Cas caught up with him on the way back from Dunkin’ Donuts; Dean offered him the box of donuts, but Cas shook his head. “Up to anything fun?”

“There was a chupacabra harrying the local farmers, I dealt with it.” 

“Awesome. Let’s feed Bigfoot and hit the road.”


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next four days the Winchesters researched while Cas was in and out fetching ingredients for the travel spell, or rare books to help with research. Sometimes he stuck around long enough for Dean to convince him to take off the trenchcoat and the suit jacket. 

Over the next three nights Dean dreamed. 

He shadowed Badb in the middle of battle. She had blood everywhere, some hers, most of it her enemies, and was grinning like a maniac. Crows swooped and dived at the enemy. She dual wielded long daggers with a bow and quiver on her back and a sword in a baldrick, dressed only in a tunic and leather boots. He saw her decapitate one warrior, spin to kick another in the knee, and stab a third through the stomach, her grin never faltering. That morning Dean was quiet, trying to keep memories of Hell and Purgatory separate and find the message in the dream.

The second dream was odd. Macha was racing a horse. Macha was _winning_ at racing a horse. Macha was obviously pregnant. What the fuck? Her bright red hair streamed out behind her as she raced down the earthen track, blue dress kilted up so her strong legs were free to move. Then shit got weirder when she dropped like a stone to give birth to twins; all the men watching the race started having labor pains. Events cleared up a little when she screamed they would feel birthing pains in their greatest hour of need. That had to suck, but they did make a pregnant lady race a horse. Dean wondered if they knew she was a goddess while he watched a white cow with red ears ( _What is with that coat pattern? It’s popping up everywhere. Note to self: mention white coat/ red ears to Sam._ ) start circling Macha and her babies, keeping all the men away.

The third dream featured Anand. Anand was a powerful woman in a bronze chestplate and mail coat with a silver crown secured to her shining teal hair, a raven on her right shoulder, and a buckler on her left arm. He could see steel boots showing below a skirt of black leather strips. She was approached by a huge and stocky man with a harp strapped to his back. When he reached her on top of the hall’s dais he enveloped her with a kiss before sitting next to her at the banquet table. Time sped up for Dean as he watched the man eat plate after plate of food until full night had fallen, maybe six hours dream time. Then the man put down his spoon and knife, belched, and swept Anand off her feet and carried her upstairs. To Dean’s embarrassment he had to follow them into Anand’s bedroom. Where they fucked. For hours. Dean spent most of the time at the window, wishing to wake up. Of course Anand would fast forward through the eating and partying but real time the sex. At least the view was nice to look at, a forest with all the trees in fall colors. As the night dragged on Dean could feel _something_ changing in the air, almost like a system ticking over or an air cleaner kicking on or like the earth settling for winter. **Finally** they finished dancing the horizontal tango and Dean was able to wake up.

~*~*~*~

The directions from Gwynn ap Nudd were surprisingly riddle free and pointed to a spot just five miles from their base. While researching Sam hadn’t been able to find anything special about the site. No historic battles, no mass murders, no ritual sacrifices, nothing to indicate why the directions pointed them towards _a hill._

“Okay, moonrise is in a half hour. While burning the bay, dill, fennel, garlic, mint, thyme, and violets with the lamb’s heart, and boy that is going to smell good, we have to do this weird hybrid of the ‘Hokey-Pokey’ and ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ and say the spell. Should be a riot,” Dean set down his pile of stuff and pulled out a road flare to see by.

“Yeah, are you _sure_ that’s what it says?” Sam broke open another road flare.

“The directions where very clear in what we must do, as I have said every time you have asked,” Cas glared at Sam for daring to question him while he set down the rest of the stuff.

“At least we get to look good while doing it,” Dean brushed off a speck of dirt from his historically correct 18 century French court suit. “I wanna know why the Men of Letters just had these lying around.”

“I don’t know, but they somehow had my size, so don’t question our good luck,” Sam straightened his collar. 

“Let’s get the embarrassment over with,” Dean set up the brazier and started tossing in the herbs. Cas delicately pulled the heart out of the wrapping the butcher had put it in, careful to not get any blood on his lace cuffs, and placed it on the coals. Once it was smoldering nicely the three of them lined up and began the footwork while singing:

> Racha mé ar cuairt suas faá' n tir son,  
>  Féachaín planda ó dhream na ríogha,  
>  Duine léarb' anmhail leis fíon agus ceól  
>  Agus a bheih aige do lá 's do oidhche.
> 
> Go mairidh sé a bheatha ag seasamh cliú na bhfear,  
>  An t-óganach lér mór mhian,  
>  Cúchonnacht mac múinte cródha cliúiteach,  
>  Cosanta prontach fáilteach.
> 
> Ar ndóigh níorbh'iongna ceólta sídhe,  
>  Lucht ag ól fíona is gach uile dhuine i n-aice.  
>  Is aite liom mar tá sé, cúirteóir sáimh é,  
>  Coraidhe gan tlás é n-aimsir gleó.

With the last note a doorway appeared in the hill, in it stood a man backlit by a bluish light.

“Are you dumbasses going to stand there gaping all night, or are you going to come in?” Came a voice Dean hadn’t heard in over three years. _Could it really be him?_

Sam beat him to the punch, “Adam?! What the…?! How the…?! How are you _here?!_ ” Sam rushed forward, paused, and then engulfed Adam in a hug. Adam took it like a champ.

“Fucking hell man! We thought we’d lost you permanently!” Dean gave Adam his trademarked shoulder clap.

“Yeah… I’ll catch up with you guys after your meetings with the Queens, whom I should get you to quickly” Adam gestured inside.

They followed Adam into an opulently decorated room that opened onto a corridor, reminding Dean a tad too much of the green room the angels kept him in; there was less Judeo-Christian symbolism and more art depicting the fae. Sam, the big nerd, started pointing at different pieces and naming them. “That’s the _Ásgårdsreien_! And that’s the _Titania and Bottom._ ”

“Sam, you’re not the museum director. Shut Up.” Dean turned towards Adam, “Anything you can tell us so we can get through this with our heads in place?”

Adam started walking. “You’ll have to worry more about Sam and Castiel. The Queens have been told you’re off limits. That does not give you a pass to be your normal self.”

“I’ve heard this before, Gwynn told me.” Dean huffed. _It’s not like I go out of my way to piss people off. Much. Often. Recently._

“You do know Gwynn’s a force for chaos, right? His interest in this puzzles the Queens. You should be more careful with him.” Adam rolled his eyes, “Just try to be polite. If it helps, pretend they want to eat your face if you’re to rude. They may already have the wine picked out to accompany it.” 

Dean looked sideways at Cas, who looked like he wanted to take a piece out of a fairy queen. “Cas, calm down, that won't happen.”

“I won’t let it happen” Cas growled in reply.

Adam stopped and immediately crowded into Cas’ space, “You WILL NOT threaten either Queen!” Shadows started dancing on the walls of the corridor despite there being no obvious source of light. Adam took on a more feral and ethereal appearance. Dean’s hand instantly went for the knife he had hidden at the small of his back while he watched Cas’ wings cast shadows and his eyes turn electric blue.

Sam just had to be the voice of reason, “Whoa! Put ‘em away boys! Adam, Cas knows the rules, he won’t do anything to hurt anyone unless they hurt us first.”

“He’s not human anymore,” eyes still glowing blue, but at least his wings were put away.

“Of course not. I’ve been here longer than three years, had to pick up a few tricks if I was going to be useful.” Adam brushed imaginary lint off his sleeves as the shadows stopped moving and he looked fully real again.

Dean glanced at Cas, but focused on Adam, “Cas, is that a glamour, or is it really Adam?”

“He still bears my enochian on his ribs, and is mostly human.”

“That’s good enough for now.” Dean forced his body to relax, “We have a lot to catch up on obviously. Onwards to the royalty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem found here: http://www.irishpage.com/songs/carolan/constant.htm


	9. Chapter 9

Adam led them through a series of corridors with architecture ranging from early Viking to Art Nouveau to Frank Lloyd Wright to Modern. He didn't say much, just kept on saying “I’ll tell you if you survive, no need to go into it now” to any question put to him. The repetition reminded Dean of the broken record “game” he and Sammy played when they got bored in the back of the Impala. Finally they came to a double door that could only be described as the embodiment of all summer days. It was beautiful: flowers bursting everywhere, vines going nuts, light seem to literally radiate from it, but Dean could sense a rot underneath, like a compost pile, and a crackle of danger, like a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. Adam walked right up to the huge door and stroked out a pattern on the flora, causing the doors to silently swing open. 

The doors opened into a giant solarium that did it’s best to follow Euclidean geometry, yet in some alcoves and floors it wandered. Not so bad Dean was afraid Cthulhu was about to waltz onto the dance floor, but enough to be distracting in a sea of distraction. And boy was this crowd distracting. At first glance everyone was elegant, graceful, and beautiful, but then small, or ugly, or coarse creatures would catch the eye. Everyone was dressed to the nines in their preferred century so the trio blended well in their French court suits. 

Dean hated it. He was surrounded by monsters not even trying to hide the fact they weren't human and it set off every instinct that had been trained into him since he was four. It wasn’t like he could stab away the anxiety. _Stupid need to be civil. Just find the Queen, get the kids, and leave. You can survive this Winchester._

A silent signal went through the crowd, causing the courtiers to flow away from the brothers and Cas, leaving a path open to the throne that dominated the court. People continued to chat and dance and mingle, just at a quieter volume, like everyone wanted to hear what was said without appearing to eavesdrop. 

Adam strode down the aisle, Dean, Cas, and Sam in his wake. As he walked Dean scrutinized the people around him. It looked like this court was made up of fae from northern Europe and the British Isles. Seeing as Dean had only been dealing with Celtic gods this made sense and he breathed a small sigh that he didn't have to deal with a clan of kitsune or a Chinese dragon (don’t get him started on Slavic fae, those fuckers are _mean_ ). 

Queen Titania sat on a throne that looked like it was literally made of light. If Dean looked hard, he could see the resemblance to the Morrígan, but that was mainly around the eyes. Titania was slender where the Morrígan was broad, short instead of tall, _huge_ boobs instead of average, and her hair attempted a shade normally found in nature, a shining gold that brought to Dean’s mind words like flaxen, champagne, and pearly. _Since when is my brain a deposit for trashy romance novel buzzwords? First thing I’m doing when I get back is pulling out my Busty Asian Beauties._

When they got close enough to speak and be heard, Adam stopped them and said “Bow, wait for me to stand.” So Dean got a closer look at the floor. _Huh. How’d they get the rock to grow like that?_ “Your Highness, I present my brothers Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester, and the angel Castiel.” Quietly, so only they could hear, Adam said “You can stand up now.” Dean looked up and right into Titania’s eye’s and got stuck. Screw Helen of Troy, **this** was a woman who could launch a thousand ships with just a glance, and she’d be at the helm.

“Dean Winchester,” her voice caressed his name like a summer breeze. “It has been a long time since the Morrígan needed a Champion to act for her. You must be truly special to be chosen.” Try as hard as he could, he couldn't hear a trace of sarcasm in the compliment. She continued, leaning back in her throne, “We understand you wish to question why we took mortal children. The unpleasant truth is the court needs knights and we need the quickness of mortals to revive slow lines.”

“You’re abducting children for cannon fodder?” Dean hissed through clenched teeth, earning him Sam’s elbow in his side.

“It would be decades your side and centuries here before they achieved their knighthood. Their lives would not be carelessly spent on a whim, but their duty would be to enforce order on chaos, same as you would for the Phantom Queen.” She paused, looked to the person on her right, “Please bring bean phósta Mac Ćarthaigh and her charge Danny Sullivan to the Blue Room. I’ll escort our guests there.”

_Of course we're moving again. At least we're getting away from all these eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about it taking so long, midterms and finals ate my brain.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come away, O, human child!  
> To the woods and waters wild,  
> With a fairy hand in hand,  
> For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”  
> — W.B. Yeats, The Stolen Child

No surprise, the Blue room was blue. Blue walls, blue carpet, blue furniture, blue curtains. The view was of a twilight ocean, so, blue view. _I wonder if they’ve ever listened to Eiffel 65._ The Queen took her seat at the head of the table that dominated the room. Adam pointed to the seats that were for Dean, Sam, and Cas, facing the view. 

A side door opened and five year old Danny Sullivan entered, escorted by a diminutive woman. The boy looked healthy and well groomed. The woman looked more normal than Queen Titania, but that wasn’t hard to do. She had long white-blond hair that flowed like water around her. Her wardrobe was simple, yet Dean could see her clothes were made with care and tailored to her slight frame. When they were seated across from him, he could see her eyes were red. _Sam did say that color combo was suppose to represent otherworldly in the Celtic circles, no surprise the first kidnapper has it._

The Queen smiled at the lady and motioned for Adam to begin. “Dean, I present Mistress Mac Ćarthaigh. Danny has been in her care for about a month.”

 _A month? Great, more than enough time to brainwash the kid._ “So Danny, like living with the Sídhe?”

“Yes! I get to go to school with banshees and goblins and selkies! They teach **magic** and fighting! If I’m good enough I could be a page in a couple years!” Dean had seen brainwashing and the victims rarely had this much bouncing excitement about their future. The whole time Mac Ćarthaigh looked at Danny with a fond smile, like she was so proud of him. 

“Anything you don’t like? What happens when you mess up?” Dean winced. Sam always overestimated how well he did with kids. He tried for ‘You can talk to me’ and got ‘Too invested to be real’ which scared kids off.

The kid squinted at Sam, “Auntie Róis is wonderful.” Danny then climbed into Mac Ćarthaigh’s lap. Mac Ćarthaigh whispered into Danny’s ear, getting a laugh out of him, and then looked at Dean.

“He is learning manners from my household and I.” Her voice was melodious, like a spring running over rounded pebbles. “His first week here he was shy, but after a couple of stories his curiosity got the better of him and he started asking questions. He eats three meals a day, and only gets dessert if he eats his greens. If he wants a snack all he has to do is ask Cook. He takes a bath every day. At school he is taught Sídhe history, Old Gaeilge, mathematics, and reading, which isn’t too different from your schools. Children not yet in the page program only spend half the day in school, the rest they are expected to help their household and play. Once he’s more settled he’ll start learning magic and the basics of sword craft. I _assume_ your brother was asking after how I discipline Danny, not if I abuse him.” Sam at least had the decency to blush. “There is always work to be done on my estate. When Danny intentionally breaks a household rule, I give him a chore that matches the harm caused and is within his ability to do.” She caught Danny’s eye, “You feel like sharing last week’s incident?” The boy nodded.

“I was upset about my math test, so I pushed over Auntie’s sewing wheel. She asked why I did that, made me a sandwich, and we talked. My chore was to card 5 rolags.”

“We also spent an extra 30 minutes on math each evening.” Mac Ćarthaigh arched a pale eyebrow at Sam, “Satisfied?”

Sam nodded. Dean took in how free the kid was with expressing himself. Danny smiled or frowned without hesitation, and was hugging Mac Ćarthaigh’s hands where they circled him to keep him on her lap. This was a content child. But he had to ask…

“Danny, don’t you miss your family back in our world?” Now the kid did curl up, as if expecting a blow. From his new family, or old?

“If you weren’t wearing that ring I would show you why mortals fear my kind!” Suddenly Mac Ćarthaigh was as terrifying a fae as Dean had ever seen, and her voice had an edge of ice melt that sent shivers down his spine. Instead of trying to get away from her Danny was burrowing into her bosom. 

“Um, Dean, _Do Something_ ” Sam hissed, pointing at Cas. Who was glowing again.

“Woah! Cas, Calm. Down.” Dean turned to Mac Ćarthaigh, “I needed to ask, please calm down before Cas pulls his wings out.”

Mac Ćarthaigh snarled at Dean and then started cooing to Danny, stroking his hair and rocking him. 

_Good enough_ “She’s not allowed to do anything. Just. Like. You. So stop posturing.”

“She has threatened you and deflected the question. How do we know this is even necessary? All you have is the word of one Celtic deity.” Cas was going to leave nail marks on the table, but he wasn’t making any move towards Mac Ćarthaigh.

“Enough,” Adam stepped forward from his place at Queen Titania’s side “Castiel, you will stand down or be removed.” Cas switched his focus to Adam. “I know you would rather be here than Away while Dean finishes his interviews.” Cas looked so resigned Dean knew Adam had won.

Adam turned to Dean, “Dean, I know you researched all the families before coming here; do you need to continue or are you willing to let Danny stay with Mistress Mac Ćarthaigh?”

Dean looked to the Queen, “I would prefer to make my decision after seeing the other two kids.”

Queen Titania inclined her head, “That is your choice. Gwynn ap Nudd said you would not be forced into a decision.” She turned to Adam, “Please show bean phósta Mac Ćarthaigh and Danny out and call for an tUasal Ó Beargha and Michael O’Brien.”

Danny had a watery smile for Dean as he left. _Kid’s a fighter, that’s for sure._

While waiting for the next two Dean told Cas, “Proof is on the top of my list when I next see the Morrígan. I don’t like making kids cry for no reason. But while we’re **here** I need you to not pick fights. I’m covered, you and Sam are not, and we don’t know what we’ll see at the winter court. I’d rather not find out if these… persons can take you two like Freyja could.”

Cas huffed, “I may not like it, but you are right. I will refrain from further displays.”

“Thanks man.”

Adam entered and announced, “Mister Ó Beargha and his charge Michael O’Brien.”


	11. Chapter 11

Michael was as enthusiastic about staying as Danny. Mister Barrfhionn Ó Beargha, who was definitely an elf, doted on the three year old boy the same way Mac Ćarthaigh had on Danny. The sídhe were obviously invested in bringing up healthy and well educated children.

Bridgette Lynch, the third child taken, was the oldest at six years old. Her guardian was Conn Mac an tSaoir and he was passably human. It seemed the court was equal opportunity employers because Bridgette was looking forward to being a page too.

After Bridgette and Mr. Mac an tSaoir were ushered out of the room by Adam, Queen Titania spoke to Dean, “I assume you need time to discuss. I have another matter to attend to. Please come see me in the Eastern solar before you visit our sister court.” She gracefully stood and left the room.

Adam took a seat across from them and smiled, “So, as you can see we have not fed the children to slobbering monsters.”

“Yeah, but they’re not _human_ are they.” That was going to be a sticking point for Dean.

Adam sobered, “No, they’re a korrigan, an elf, and a leprechaun, and they treat those kids like they’re the center of the universe, unlike their human families.” Adam sighed, “If they were human, would you be having a problem leaving them in the care of the court?”

“If the families were human I wouldn't have to worry about them becoming magical knights. Just look at it from my point of view: a kid gets abducted by fairies, gets a perfect life, and an extended lifespan. That just doesn't happen in reality.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face, _I wish it did._

“These kids are special and they will play an important role in keeping the realms stable. Being picked doesn't mean their future is all puppies and rainbows; they’re in for a ton of discipline and work.” Adam paused, looking at his hands, “What do you expect will happen if you get your way and they go back to your realm?”

“Honestly? Probably failed by the education system and forced to live paycheck to paycheck.” Dean held his hands up in surrender, “ You got me, they have a better future here than back in the states. Doesn't make me happy leaving them with beings **known** for using and abusing mortals.”

Adam shrugged at that, “Most sídhe would say the mortals deserved it, both are valid views of the same story. And you just saw that these children will not be carelessly used.”

“Guys, you just went full circle,” Sam said in his “I’m being helpful” voice.

“Fine, I agree the kids are better here, we’ll see how Nora is doing in Winter before I completely agree, but one thing’s been bugging me: why **these** kids?” Dean tried ignoring Sam’s surprised expression, _Did he really expect me to take these kids away from something I could never give him?_ Dean stopped for a beat, not hearing Adam starting to answer him, _Where the fuck did that come from?! I need **out of here** right now._

The sound of his chair scraping back stopped Adam mid-sentence, “I, uh, which ocean is that?” Dean moved towards the (still twilight after two hours) view.

“The Twilight Ocean. The Queen expected it would help present Mistress Mac Ćarthaigh in the best light, pun intended. Do you want to go on the balcony?” Adam moved past Dean and opened the balcony door.

Dean rushed to the railing and took deep breaths. Adam followed more slowly. “You encountered an idea you had promised yourself to never touch, didn't you?”

Dean turned haunted eyes towards Adam, “How could you know that?”

“It’s a side effect of being around Queen Titania. The Summer court is the organized chaos of growth, and she is the embodiment of that idea. When I first came here it was a shock. One moment I’m in The Cage, the next there is a glorious warrior woman handing me over to Queen Titania. I found out later that the Morrígan was the one to haul my ass away from Michael. Anyway, I spent months putting my psyche back together, and once a week Queen Titania would come and see me, for tea of all things. After each visit I had this revelation about myself. I think the amount of exposure I got is why I’m only ‘mostly’ human now.” Adam said all this with a sad smile while looking at the water.

“Why is Sam fine? And dare I ask what happens around Queen Mab?”

“Sam was not the one being judged back there, you were. You had the full attention of a fairy queen for about two hours; if anything, this confirms the Morrígan’s claim that you are descended from her. A normal mortal would have gone a bit silly after a half hour.”

“And Queen Mab’s background radiation?” Dean prompted.

“Winter is a cold necessity that allows nature to rest. I always felt calmer, more settled after a visit from Queen Mab. I understand being around her when she is angry is like being caught in a blizzard. I have been lucky enough to escape a demonstration.”

A knock brought Dean’s attention to the balcony door, “Are you feeling better?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, just needed some air before I passed out from heat stroke; these jackets are heavy.”

Cas just looked at him like the lie was pathetic, which, yeah it was. “Anyway, Adam, you were about to tell us why these kids,” Dean brushed past Cas back into the Blue room.

“Hmm, yes, you might have noticed that all are of Irish descent. All four have a drop of sídhe blood; some ancestor was a fairy bride. If they return to your reality they would have longer than average lives and a couple other perks. We can use that drop to grow these youngsters into full blood fae, they’ll attune to the realm faster and live longer than a mortal child brought here.”

“Wait, so all these kids are proto-sídhe? Why not take all kids like them?” Sam asked.

Adam started ticking off points with his fingers, “Because it would draw unwanted attention, because some children could belong to more than one court, because some children are in disputed territory… Do I need to continue?” Adam had mastered the superior posturing since they had last seen him.

Sam pulled bitchface #12, “No, that’s pretty clear, thanks Adam.”

“Any more que…” Adam was interrupted by a knock on the side door. Mac Ćarthaigh came in and made a small curtsy to them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I knew I was suppose to give Sam Winchester something.” She walked around the table to Sam’s side and took his hand. “You must not wear plaid on a Tuesday or else a great tragedy will befall you.” And then she dropped his hand, curtsied again, and left. Dean was about to crack a joke about the moose not having any shirts that weren't plaid, but the look on Adam’s face stopped him.

“What? Should I take that seriously?” Sam asked.

“A korrigan just gave you a geas,” Cas answered, “They’re rarely wrong.”


	12. Chapter 12

Adam glanced at Dean before asking, “Sam, do you understand what a geas is?”

“Well yeah, Cú Chulainn had one. Something about dog meat leading him to his death. We haven’t run into anyone who’s actually had one though.” Sam still had a small smile of disbelief.

“Yes, he could not eat dog meat, but also could not refuse the hospitality offered to him. So when a crone offered him a dinner of dog meat, he had to eat it. He was weakened right before a duel with Lugaid Mac Cu Roi. Where he died.” Adam was doing his best to convince Sam this was serious and not just an attack on Sam’s style.

“Now wait, that’s overstating things just a bit. While we haven’t run into anyone carrying a geas, I have looked them up when we run into curses. There’s different severities, like the Welsh see them as a hurdle to be overcome, or even a blessing. In a fatalistic, could cause your death kind of way.” Sam was determined to be right.

Dean let Sam argue with Adam about what the pronouncement could mean and studied Cas’ reaction. He appeared to be looking at the air around Sam, almost like he was tracing the flight of a crafty fly.

“See anything interesting?” Dean whispered, Adam currently talking about standing on a goat while getting out of a bath.

Cas’ attention snapped to him, paused, and then went back to watching Sam, “When Mistress Mac Ćarthaigh took his hand, a … web sprang from his mouth and wrapped him up. I am looking for a way to cut it off.”

Dean tuned back to Sam: “So say I wear any plaid on a Tuesday, I should what? expect all the bad luck I got from the rabbit’s foot?” 

“Rabbit foot?! You survived an encounter with a real cursed rabbit foot?”

Dean looked back at Cas, “Does the web show a clearer prophecy than what she said, any indication of what happens when he wears plaid, or is it just a plaid shirt with red X through it on a Tuesday?”

“... and then I lost my shoe.” 

“She translated it well; anything unclear is built into it. It’s strange: I should have known this from before.”

“Why? It’s new and your bosses were dickless wonders who’re shit at passing along info.” _Success!_ Eye-roll and huff was as good as a surprised laugh from Cas.

“Everything about it reads like it’s been there since birth, I would have been able to see it the first time I met him. It feels decades old while being minutes.”

Adam pulled back from an account of Mab’s treasure vault that had a set of rabbit feet to look at Cas. “You’re sure? Shit.”

“That means something?”

“Well, it’s an effect of why the Morrígan needs you.” That had Dean’s full attention.

“You need to elaborate.”

“The Fomori are injecting more chaos into a system already experiencing a positive feedback loop. More chaos, faster spin, less control. There use to be safeties and people all over whose job was to apply equal force against chaos agents in the system.” Adam thought a moment, “Chaos isn't bad, it just is; It helps us avoid stagnation. The Fomori are **evil** and are currently outside the system. Sam having a brand new geas that is as old as he is, is an effect of too much chaos. It could be random chance that he got it, or he was targeted.”

“So if I can fix things, Sam would be okay?” Normal, protect-your-brother endgame, good.

“Maybe. It could just turn into a new geas that he has to obey. But Sam is right, geas are only _mostly_ fatal. There are ways around them if you have the ability.” 

Sam perked up at that, “Cas is much better than a magical uncle.” 

“But you can’t turn into an eagle,” Cas pointed out, “And I might not be able to do anything.” 

“So we put up big signs in the bunker that say ‘Don’t’ with a plaid shirt nailed to it. You can even hit me with them if you see me going for the plaid.” Sam joked, but Dean might just do it. He wished Sam would take threats to his life more seriously.

“Ugh, fine. Don’t we need to see Queen Titania before we leave for Winter? I don’t think we should keep either of them waiting any longer.” They could deal with the geas, along with everything else, when they got back to the real world.

“If you’ll follow me,” Adam gestured to the main door.

~*~*~*~

In the eastern solar Queen Titania was attended by several sprites while she collected flowers from the indoor garden. Adam motioned for Cas and Sam to hang back while Dean joined the Queen. 

“I am sorry for the distress my presence caused you. It is never easy for a mortal to be in our court, but you have been marvelous, if a bit stubborn.” She walked over to one of the many flowering plants and plucked a sprig covered in lavender, bell shaped flowers. Turning, she presented it to Dean, “This is heather. Keep it with you always and it will provide protection. It is my hope that this small gift will help you succeed in your task.”

Dean took the sprig with a bow. When he looked closer he saw that instead of being a uniform lavender, the flowers were a twist of purple and white. _Probably means something. Everything else seems to. Heh, bet I insulted someone’s aunt with how I cough._ He looked up when one of the sprites buzzed around his head. The little creature was holding out a silver ivy pin, presumably so he could make a boutonnière out of the heather. 

“The pin can only be removed on purpose, so you need not fear accidentally misplacing Summer’s Gift.” She artfully pinned the heather to his velvet coat. Before she drew back, she cupped his cheeks, “Know that your line’s sacrifices are honored every day.” She then tilted his head down and kissed his forehead. 

Dean stood dazed for a moment, then bowed and returned to Adam. Dean fidgeted with the ivy pin before saying, “Let’s go meet the Ice Queen,” earning him an elbow from Sam and an eye-roll from Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness: more brain sucking finals eating away at my creativity.
> 
> Next chapter will probably take awhile too, summer term and new job take most of my energy. Like vampires, but less sexy and fewer teeth.


End file.
